


to feel your skin on mine

by obsessivereader



Series: The accidental series [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Accidental Stimulation, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending Massage, M/M, Massage, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, steve's a helpful guy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2019-01-01 01:32:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12145719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obsessivereader/pseuds/obsessivereader
Summary: “Hey Buck, what's wrong?”Bucky grimaces as he sits down next to Steve. “It aches sometimes,” he says, as he rotates his left arm.Steve puts down the report he’s reading. “I could massage it for you? I had a physiotherapist after I came out of the ice. The massage really helped when I overdid things while getting back into condition.”“You?”Bucky pauses mid-rotation, a look of patent disbelief on his face. “Overdo things? Say it ain’t so.”“Very funny.”  He tries to ignore the way his heart is pounding. “You want that massage or what.”





	to feel your skin on mine

**Author's Note:**

> This is the last of the three fics I started over a year ago after seeing that tumblr post about the accidental tag on AO3. Oddly enough, this actually started out as cut scene from Anything you want.

“Hey Buck, what's wrong?”

Bucky grimaces as he sits down next to Steve. “It aches sometimes,” he says, as he rotates his left arm.

Steve puts down the report he’s reading. “I could massage it for you? I had a physiotherapist after I came out of the ice. The massage really helped when I overdid things while getting back into condition.” 

_“You?”_ Bucky pauses mid-rotation, a look of patent disbelief on his face. “Overdo things? Say it ain’t so.”

“Very funny.” He tries to ignore the way his heart is pounding. “You want that massage or what.” 

Bucky gives Steve a considering look as he lowers his arm. “Okay,” he says at last. “How do we do this?”

It takes a conscious effort to keep his movements casual when he gets up off the couch. “You go put some towels on your bed, I’ll get the oil,” he says. 

“Oil,” Bucky repeats, bemused. He shakes his head and walks off.

Steve rummages in their bathroom cabinet for the gift set of expensive body pampering products Nat had given Bucky for his birthday. And… yes, there’s the bottle of massage oil he’d remembered seeing.

When Steve walks in with the bottle, Bucky’s sitting on the bed, absently rubbing at his shoulder and chewing at his lip. His gaze skitters away from Steve’s after one brief glance.

“Bucky,” Steve says, as guilt curdles in his gut. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“No,” Bucky says quickly, “no, I’m good.”

“Okay,” Steve says, “if you’re sure.” 

Bucky looks Steve in the eye and nods his head.

The certainty and trust in Bucky’s eyes eases his heart, but a sliver of guilt still remains. Sure, he wants to help Bucky, but his intentions aren’t altogether pure. 

He gestures at Bucky’s shirt. “You can leave that on, that works too. I won’t need the oil, then.”

Bucky stares down at his hands for a moment, then he takes a breath and pulls off his t-shirt. He lies down on his front, tucks his hands under the pillow, and turns his face away from Steve.

Steve takes a deep breath and lets it out quietly. “Okay, then. Oil it is.” He kneels down by the side of the bed. “I’m just gonna move your hair out of the way, okay?” 

Bucky nods.

He strokes Bucky’s hair back from his face and tucks it behind his ear. The muscles on Bucky’s back shift as Steve brushes aside the stray tendrils that trail across the back of Bucky’s neck. Steve has to wet his throat before he can speak. 

“Ready?”

Bucky hums his assent.

Steve pours some oil into his cupped hand and drizzles it over Bucky’s back and shoulders. Using both hands and a gentle touch, he spreads it all over, making sure not to pull at the seam separating metal from flesh. The scent of the oil fills the room; light, a little zesty, with a hint of pine. 

He starts out the massage with slow, easy strokes to let Bucky get used to the sensation. He tries to keep his touch impersonal, tries desperately not to think about how good Bucky feels under his hands, the way the oil lets his hands slide over Bucky’s heated skin, the firm resilience of Bucky’s muscles.

Bucky’s breathing remains slow and measured, so Steve starts to exert more pressure. He works his way down from Bucky’s neck to his lower back, paying special attention to the muscles in his left shoulder and side. He keeps at it until he’s worked out all the knots in Bucky’s muscles.

“I’m done with your back,” he says. “You can you turn over now.”

Bucky turns his face into his pillow. “Um…”

Steve pulls his hands back. “Is something wrong? Did I hurt you?”

“No, just—I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Oh god, Bucky, I’m sorry if I made things worse—”

Bucky shakes his head, but still keeps his face hidden. “You didn’t, Steve. It was good, it helps, just”—he exhales a long breath—“I've got a bit of a situation.”

Steve blinks. “A situation?” 

“Yeah, Steve. A situation.”

He shakes his head even though Bucky can’t see. “I don’t…”

“In my pants, Steve,” Bucky says, almost too soft for Steve to hear. “That kind of situation.”

 _“Oh._ ”

Shit. Christ. _Fuck._ He can almost feel the gears in his brain smoking as he tries to think of something to say. 

“Don't worry, Buck,” is all he manages to come up. “It's normal.” He’s intensely relieved that his voice doesn’t give away anything of what he’s feeling.

“Normal, Steve?” A little bit of bite leaks into Bucky's voice. “This happened to you during a massage?”

“I… Well… No. Not personally.” Then again, the person giving him the massage wasn't Bucky, so… 

“But my physiotherapist did warn me that it can happen, and that it’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” He places his hand on Bucky’s back. “I'm—I want to continue if it's helping. But it’s up to you.”

There’s a long silence broken only by the sound of their measured breaths. 

Bucky turns over. 

Steve tries not to have a heart attack. 

Making sure his eyes don't stray past Bucky's waistline, he spreads oil over Bucky's chest and torso. Thank god Bucky’s eyes are closed, because he has no idea what his face is giving away right now. He ignores the way his pants have become uncomfortably tight, and tries really _really_ hard to pretend he doesn’t have better-than-normal peripheral vision.

And then Bucky sort of… _undulates_ when Steve smoothes his hands down Bucky's side. His gaze snaps up to Bucky’s face and he has to swallow a groan. Bucky's biting his lower lip so hard that he’s probably close to drawing blood, his brows are drawn into a frown, and there’s a fevered flush tinting his cheeks. 

He can’t leave Bucky like this, can he? If there’s something he can do for Bucky, he should… right?

“Bucky.” 

Bucky’s eyelids drift up, revealing pupils that are blown almost black, with only a thin ring of grey left. 

“Bucky, I can take care of that for you.”

Bucky blinks at him, hazy with arousal. His throat works as he swallows. “You’d do that?” 

A shudder runs through Steve at the low, husky sound of Bucky’s voice. Is this how Bucky sounded when he whispered in his dates’ ears? No wonder he always had them blushing. 

He licks his lips. “Yeah.” 

Bucky's gaze zeroes in on the movement, then he gives a shaky laugh that seems to be directed mostly at himself. “Sure, Steve,” he says. “Why not.” 

Bucky hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his sweats and, after a brief hesitation, strips them off in one smooth sinuous movement. 

Steve hasn’t seen Bucky naked since the war. Back then, Bucky had been all lean muscles and sinew. Now, he exudes raw power and strength. Either way, he takes Steve’s breath away, like he’s been doing since the year he’d turned fifteen.

Steve slicks up his hands with some more oil, and then hesitates—he doesn’t know what Bucky likes, and he’s never done this with anyone else. The only cock he’s ever touched is his own. 

Okay, so... if it were him, what would he want? 

Heart pounding, throat dry, he strokes his hands from Bucky’s torso down to his thighs and up again. Bucky’s eyes are closed, but a small crease appears between his brows, and he sucks his already red and puffy lower lip between his teeth. Now that he’s not trying to hide his arousal, Steve can hear how ragged his breathing is, and the hitch every time Steve brushes his fingers against Bucky’s cock like it’s accidental. God, he’s beautiful like this, so fucking beautiful.

Steve pours some more oil on his hands, getting them good and slippery. A quiet, fortifying breath, and then he wraps his hand around Bucky's cock and starts to jerk him off slow and easy. 

Bucky sucks in a shuddering breath and bites down hard on his lip. His eyes close tight and his head tips back. His cock feels so hot and hard, the oil letting Steve’s hand glide over its length with just the slightest hint of drag. 

Steve’s so aroused that it physically hurts. He welcomes the pain, because it helps remind him that this isn’t about him, it’s all for Bucky. 

He gets both knees on the bed so he can balance better, and then he starts stroking Bucky’s cock from root to tip, hand over hand, in one slow, continuous motion. Bucky jerks as a small, high sound escapes him, and his back arches up off the bed like he'd touched a live wire. His jaw is clenched tight, and his lips pressed tightly together, like he’s holding back more sounds, sounds that Steve desperately wants to hear. 

Steve wants to press kisses into the vulnerable hollows of Bucky’s neck, trace the curve of that jaw with his lips, his tongue, his teeth. He wants to mark Bucky’s neck where the tendons stand out in sharp relief, lick his way down every inch of skin, and feel the weight of Bucky’s cock on his tongue. 

There’s a tearing sound as Bucky’s hands fist the sheets so tightly that metal fingers shred the fabric. Another small whimper escapes through his clenched teeth, and Steve would swear his temperature climbs a notch. 

“Steve,” Bucky gasps, looking glassy-eyed and flushed. “Steve, please…”

“Whatever you want,” he says, in a voice that’s barely recognisable as his own. “Just tell me, and it’s yours.” _I’m_ yours, he nearly says.

Sharp white teeth press into a swollen lip in indecision, then Bucky reaches up and wraps a hand around Steve’s neck and gives a little tug. 

Steve’s mind blanks as he stares down at Bucky. Does Bucky want—? 

Another tug, and Steve groans and lunges up to kiss him. If he’s got it wrong, Bucky can punch him in the mouth to let him know. 

He doesn’t get it wrong.

He lets go of Bucky’s cock so he can cup Bucky’s head and angle it just right. If he’s only got one shot at this, he wants it all, wants to learn Bucky’s taste and etch it into his memory. The kiss turns frantic; wet and open-mouthed, too many years of want suddenly released.

When he feels hands on his buckle, Steve can’t control the way his whole body shudders. 

“Can I?” Bucky whispers against his lips.

“Yes,” he groans. _“Yes.”_

Bucky’s eyes remain steady on him as he unbuckles the belt and undoes Steve’s pants, the brush of cool metal fingers against his heated skin leaving goosebumps in their wake. There’s a moment’s hesitation, then Bucky presses the metal hand flat against Steve’s stomach. There’s a question in his eyes, and a challenge. 

Steve sucks in a shuddering breath, wraps the hand that’s not propping him up around Bucky’s left wrist, and pushes downwards. As though he wouldn’t want that hand around him, as though it’s anything other than Bucky’s _hand._ Bucky’d taken what Hydra had forced on him and made it his own. 

“Please,” Steve whispers. 

Bucky searches his eyes. The corner of one mouth curls up when he seems to find what he’s searching for, then his hand continues its slow slide towards Steve’s cock. 

The feel of hard metal against his most vulnerable parts sends a dark thrill chasing through Steve. He arches into it, and groans out Bucky’s name, not caring in that moment what he reveals. Bucky strokes him with a gentle touch, then lets his fingers trail down between Steve’s legs to draw a finger up his perineum. 

“Jesus,” Steve chokes out. 

He was to swallow a protesting groan when Bucky pulls his hand out from Steve’s pants. But then, Bucky gives Steve’s shirt a meaningful tug. 

“Do you want me to…?” 

Bucky doesn’t say anything, but Steve can read the answer in his eyes. He hadn’t expected this when he’d made the offer, but whatever Bucky wants, Bucky gets. 

Steve nearly tears his shirt pulling it off. He slides his thumbs under the waistband of his pants and looks at Bucky. A slow blink and a slight nod has Steve shucking out of them in record time. When he gets back on the bed, he’s pulled on top of Bucky and into a heated kiss. 

Unlike the frenzy of their first few kisses, Bucky’s kiss is slow and deep, an exchange of breaths, and the velvet rub of tongues. The oil he’d spread all over Bucky turns every motion of their bodies into an erotic slide of skin against skin as they move together in a matched rhythm that’s slow and relentless. Tension coils inside him tighter and tighter with each slow, grinding thrust.

“Bucky,” he groans. 

Bucky kisses him again, like he can’t stop himself, then he grips Steve’s hips and presses up against him. Bucky’s back bows up off the bed and he comes with the most beautiful sounds. Steve swallows them down and stores them away in his mind, and then he’s falling too, falling into Bucky, and flying apart all at the same time. 

๑ ๑ ๑ 

“Are we gonna talk about this?” 

Steve steals one guilty look at Bucky, lying rumpled and naked next to him on the bed, skin still sheened with oil.

“I…” Steve swallows past the sudden lump in his throat. “Talk about what.”

“Really?” Bucky lifts his arms over his head and stretches, lithe as a cat, back arching and muscles shifting under his golden skin. Steve tracks the movement as his mouth goes dry at the sight.

“About the fact that you want to fuck me.”

He jerks his gaze up, heat blooming in his cheeks. “What?”

Bucky snorts and curls his body towards Steve. “You’re blushing _now?_ After you had your hand on my dick and your tongue in my mouth?” He waves a hand over his torso. “You came all over me, pal.”

“Jesus, Bucky...” 

He wants to pull the covers over his head and hide, but for all Bucky’s show of confidence, there’s a hint of vulnerability clouding his eyes. 

Steve can’t put it off anymore, doesn’t want to… this conversation is long past due. He turns to face Bucky, curling up on his side in a mirror image of Bucky. Glad he no longer has to hide his fascination with Bucky’s lips, he traces them with a finger. “I want a lot more than that, Buck.”

“Oh?” A light comes into Bucky’s eyes that has Steve catching his breath. “Like what?”

Steve threads their fingers together and brings their joined hands up so he can press a kiss onto the back of Bucky’s hand. “Like a date, maybe?”

Bucky smiles, slow and soft and beautiful. “A date sounds good.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on tumblr :) [yetanotherobsessivereader](http://yetanotherobsessivereader.tumblr.com/)


End file.
